The Halo of Beginnings

I remember sitting

In my mom’s lap,

Her arms curled around me,

The rocking chair creaking slightly

In the breeze of her love,

Swayed and lulled by a sea

Of endless hope,

Our gazes flicked

To the streetlamp outside,

Its soft gold halo,

Too,

Embracing me in its light

As snow flickered beside it,

Gentle white flurries

That weren’t at all

The beginning of the cold,

The desolate season,

The period of mourning

For people we hadn’t even lost;

It was the warm flutter

Of a child’s heartbeat,

The wings of each pump carrying them

Up into the clouds,

Their eyes sparkling

In the light of the halo

Of beginnings,

Each breath they took

The first of the rest

Of their lives,

Which I know

Is a cliche,

But I remember

Pressing my palm to my chest

And feeling it flutter,

Too.